


Bring You Back To Me

by Nyxierose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2721089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey. It’s okay. Whatever happened… let me look after you for once."</p><p>Linctavia sadness/fluff, set during and after 2x06. Second-person // Octavia’s POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring You Back To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The Breaking Light" by Vienna Teng.

Breathe. Breathe. You are brave now, you tell yourself, pulling your sword from its holding place on your back. You're in an enclosed space, which is still bad, but it's big and you're not alone. You've got your brother with you, and the two guards who wandered off elsewhere. You're gonna be okay. And then you see a ghost, and you have never been more wrong about anything in your little life.

He was dead, they told you, and you believed it because death was easy, final. You almost wish they'd been right. The shell opposite you clearly has little in common with the man you love - and you will stand by that even now, because you still cannot see a monster. Someone who has been destroyed by circumstances, yes, but you _know_ him. The person you gave your heart to would not do such things, and you cannot give up that belief. So you call to him, the first time in at least a week that his name has slipped from your lips without you breaking into tears seconds afterward, and you hope against hope that the sound of your voice will be enough to break through whatever happened to them.

It isn't.

You brace for the inevitable, gun in hand, you're not entirely sure how it works and you're even less sure if you're strong enough to fight, but it's unnecessary. He doesn't attack you. Notices you, yes, runs forward and you are so scared, but he pushes you aside almost as if saving you and you wonder, for a heartbeat, if perhaps he does know you after all. No, you can't think like that right now. You can't. Even your love is not that strong.

You come up with a plan. It's reckless, you know damn well that you could die quickly and nastily if whatever familiarity you still have doesn't work a second time, but it's all you've got. If this is how your life ends, you will die well, seen by the two people who mattered most to you. It will have been enough.

"Lincoln!" You say his name over and over again, wondering if each time will be enough, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. Please, you want to say, remember me. Please remember that you love me, or at least you did before someone did all of this to you. Please, please don't kill me.

By now, the sight of your love in pain is all too familiar - you wish desperately that it wasn't, but you are not children of a kind world - but at least it's over soon enough. "Now what?" you ask, voice shaking and heart moving even faster. Could you die of this, perhaps? No, you decide, you will not. It'd be boring, and when something finally happens to you, it will be anything but. Right now, that's the only thing you're sure of.

"Now we take him home," Bell replies, so much calmer than you. Of course he is, you can't help thinking, but you know what this all means to him, how much of a _sacrifice_ it is. He didn't approve of your choice, never quite said as much but you knew damn well how completely _thrilled_ he was when he find out. But here he is now, weeks later, willing to help you… well, you're not entirely sure _what_ you're doing, but you're not doing it alone and that's more than you thought you'd get.

Home, of course, is the dropship. The restraints are still hanging up on the second level, and you feel sick as you fasten them. This is the second time this has been done, the second time this same innocent has been held against his will, but this time it's different. This time it's for his own damn good. This time… you know it's necessary, but that doesn't make you feel any better. How will you explain this away when his mind wakes? Are there even words? "Someone turned you into a monster and we saved you and this was the only thing we can think of to make that happen and oh hey my brother doesn't want to kill you anymore because he understands that I love you" is not going to be an easy conversation to have. Oh well, you've got time before you have to deal with that, right?

You wait for hours, eventually curling up in a ball on the other side of the space because you're tired and overwhelmed and trying to drag a sizable human quite a distance did not help either of those things. Bellamy finds a blanket somewhere and offers it to you, volunteers to take watch. As if that even matters, you want to point out. If anything happens, you'll wake instantly regardless - but if it makes him feel better, then so be it.

It's daylight again, or at least it feels like it ought to be, when you wake. And, to your surprise, progress is being made. As you approach, you see open eyes, an almost frightened look, nowhere near what you _want_ but it's a step forward. "Can you hear me?" you ask, stopping just out of reach. "Do you know me?"

Lincoln doesn't say anything, but you don't take it too hard. He's quiet by nature, you know - even during those few good days you had, words were not his preferred form of communication. But you swear the light in his eyes grows a little bit, and that is enough.

Later that day, you find water and cloth and remove the paint from his skin. This, he responds to, a few little unintelligible noises as your fingertips linger on his face. "Hey," you whisper, pausing for a moment. "It's okay. Whatever happened… let me look after you for once."

It's three more days before you get any more than that, three long days of waiting and wondering if there's anything else you _should_ do. You consider reaching out - you know people now, and one day soon you're going to have to tell Indra about this, you definitely owe her that - but you decide to wait until you have an explanation. If what you're trying to do doesn't work out, no point in telling anyone else about it.

On the fifth day, as you clean his hands like you've taken to doing every morning because maybe skin on skin will _help_ , his fingers wrap gently around your wrist and you _know_. It could be, will be, days if not weeks before all is right again, but he's not dangerous anymore. Not himself again yet, but not a monster either. Far enough in the right direction that you let the contact last, discovering once more how well your fingers fit together.

"Who did this to you?" you ask, because someday you will find out and someday you will destroy them all.

"I don't know." His voice is hesitant, low and painful, and yet at the same time the most comforting thing you've ever heard. "I don't know."

Well, just as well you have a few guesses. Not hard to figure out who has enough tech and matching insanity to cause this situation. "Do you know who I am?"

He squeezes your hand. "Heart."

You can't control what happens next, the way your eyes fill with tears and the rest of your body feels like a huge weight has been lifted from you. It's not much to cling to, you know, but it's a turning point. "I thought I lost you. I thought…"

"I'm not… n-not that easy to get rid of."

Days, weeks, you don't care. It's a long road ahead, but the most important part is right back where he belongs. "I know," you say, using your free hand to begin undoing the restraints. "I know."


End file.
